


Push and pull

by fish_wifey



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How many times do I have to explain it to you, Kise? Can't you understand it's fucking bothersome for someone who's used to live alone to be surrounded and hugged all the freaking time? Idiot."</p>
<p>A scene in the morning; Kasamatsu lives on his own and Kise tends to sleep over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push and pull

In his dream, Ryōta sails across the seven seas like a pirate of old, golden liquor in one hand and a map to his destination in the other. The map is warm to his touch, always out in the open sun and burnt from candle fires he held it to close to, while he reads tiny handwriting like an expert.

Ryōta wakes with the sun smiling down on him, the back of his hand, innocent on Yukio's lower back, the body temperature of another person's warmth drifting to him. The luring in is perfect and Ryōta's first instinct is to wrap himself around Yukio, make a sound of complete happiness in the back of his throat and enclose the person he likes best as close as humanly possible. As it is his customs, Yukio wakes from the sudden attack of his body, the entanglement; like a kraken taking down a ship at sea. When Yukio wakes, it's with a curse to the sun to be so bright, with another brightness all over his back and with a temper. Muttering more curses now directed at Ryōta, he unlocks the grip of hands from his front and pushes him away, making him lie back first into the futon.

Despite being an angry sprite in the morning, Ryōta can only see how funny and cute Yukio looks with his hair standing in every possible direction. The menacing dark circles he would glance past with a loving look.

"How many times do I have to explain it to you, Kise? Can't you understand it's fucking bothersome for someone who's used to live alone to be surrounded and hugged all the freaking time? Idiot." The last word comes with an half-hearted foot aiming at Ryōta's shin, hardly lands; Yukio stands up without another word and makes to leave his room. He rummages through a Ryōta-created pile of clothes in the corner, mumbling how stupid copy-cats should at least try and keep it clean when they visits on nights. Ryōta stares with drowsy eyes and a sleepy mind and a hurt heart to the strong, bend back. The last thing he sees before Yukio goes out, is an irritated hand, the same pushing him away, go through haywire raven hair, before he's left behind underneath the blankets. It's a rude awakening on which he soon recovers.

Piling the blankets away, he follows him to the little kitchen, hears the scrapping of old coffee into the trash bag, the aroma of fresh-grounded beans replacing the filter, now added to the machine's inner workings. Yukio is frantic in his work for a breakfast; despite being a sport's addict who is anal-tight on good nutrition, Yukio's first 'breakfast' consists of hot black coffee. Ryōta can only smile at the huge breakfasts Yukio prepared on other mornings. Following the American lead, he makes pancakes and oatmeals, fruit too expensive for a high school student partly living on his own, either mixed with muesli and yogurt or crushed and soothed into a juice.

Ryōta smiles widens however, seeing the set out for two people on the table, even if nothing else is prepared for now. A tiny little flame gives him heart, seeing the particular dark blue shade of Yukio's shirt. A gift from Ryōta, the front having a bilingual message he just couldn't deal with without thinking of Yukio; no humans before coffee. However, he won't be softened off by the little things, won't be pushed away without making a stand on the current, ever occurring issue.

A sadness brought on by selfish needs spreads and squares his shoulders. It's all fun and exciting until someone's hurt and he's quite done with that.

"Don't you understand how lonely it can become to be on your own all the time? To hunger for companionship, enclosure, warmth? It shouldn’t be such a bad thing to want a loved one close." Yukio doesn't seemed disturbed by the questions, filling the water tank up and starting the machine, doesn't turn around when he speaks, and yet his tone is changed.

"I do know. doesn't make it any easier though..." The machine is silent for another few seconds before it stutters into working, grinding beans and heating up the water. Yukio takes a cup out of the cupboard, another dark blue gift with the Kaijou readings on both sides. The holder slams it harder than wanted onto the counter.

"Fuck,"

Ryōta waits in a quiet space, for a word, for a turn of the head, for a smile. Not because of some weird dominance kink or the need to hear an apology. He gives Yukio time, wants them to mend a bond together and not force it down one way or another. If he gives in too fast, nothing will be changed. Even when he receives no note, he doesn't give up, although the urge to walk out on him rises -or at least into another room where he doesn't has to see the back of the stubborn head. However, he catches the arm falling to Yukio's side, a near-good, given up arm. Fingers curl, and then twitch; a beckoning. Ryōta follows the tiny summons, graceless heart filling with gratefulness when his own fingers entwine with the others. Knowing he's allowed to this second time, he wraps another around Yukio's middle.

Kissing the nape of the neck, he smiles when Yukio doesn't twitch at the touch, no matter how cute it is on other days. Instead, their fingers close up, and Yukio's raises the held hand to his chest. It could be seen as a cheesy move, until the quickened heartbeat thumps through the skin and vibrates into Ryōta's hand. It's a request to listen to his heart, hear what Yukio wants to say but can't with just words as a device. It's difficult, sometimes, but Ryōta has heard what he needs all along, reading it off movements.

"Senpai can be testily in the mornings without coffee, mhn?" Ryōta's mood is all good now, the amazing scent of sleep-deprived Yukio and the try-hard black heart needing it's jet fuel, mingling in his nose.

"Maybe." It's a step to the right direction, the only apology he will get is the one he has to hear between the lines, imagine from words not saying sorry at all, but the tone in which they're uttered.

"Sooo, if i would be bringing you coffee every morning, it might help?" Keeping his voice light, void of any desperation, any pleading, any pushing of the matter. He wants them to be good, to be healthy, to be fun. Sometimes wanting more than you're getting hurts, Ryōta wouldn't be himself if he didn't try claiming it for his own.

Yukio turns around, eyes as hard as always. It's a reflection of inner resolve and not at all a challenging, silencing look. Ryōta doesn't flinch away from it.

"No, you don't have to do it. Guess I have to get used to you clinging at me like an idiot."

Ryōta's heart swells up with the prospect, unable to say it vocally, he tries using his mouth with the other tale-telling practice, one speaking through a tongue gliding over another. Thoughts float through his mind as he lowers his eyelids, dips his head, about to kiss Yukio -when a hand presses in the middle of the face and he's being pushed away again, ruder this time around, while the entwined hands enclose in an equal iron hold.

"You freaking- don't! Brush your teeth first, bastard." Gazing down through protesting fingers, Ryōta is lazy when he licks the warm and guitar-roughened palm, enjoying the way Yukio takes his hand off as if he got burned.

"Yeah yeah yeah, already going! You brush yours after coffee though!" It's a lie told with a hidden grin, as he doesn't mind the licking up scent inside Yukio's mouth after coffee. Another little thing making him who he is.

"Huh!? Don't tell me what to do, and don't just drop the honorifics because-" Yukio turns, half-red now full blowing out and fanning to his ears, bringing his focus back to the coffee pot, now nearly full with his morning need.

"Be~cau~se~? You don't mind me calling you by first name when we-"

"PISS OFF! Brush your teeth already, stinkbrain!" It's the second kick rounding up this morning, this one less caring than the one he’s gotten to know during practice, but Ryōta's quick to run from it. A smile burns it's way across his face, at all the cute little things his senior does in the morning, at all the sweet things he can get out of him to say out loud, or the meanings he's able to hear from sentences. Go away, do this, do that, idiot -it's all just a fake for 'hurry up, come back, let me kiss that ridiculous face of yours to shut you up'.

Unable to hold back another jeer, Ryōta turns around before he enters the bathroom, catching Yukio stealing glances at his retreating form, now furious again, turning around as if he never did such a thing.

"And don't forget to put it in my cup this time, senpai! You know, the things which could make your horrible bitter shit bearable? The milk and the sugar and the whipped cream and-"

"Get going! I won't create an abomination, you can do it yourself, heathen."


End file.
